Scars and Torn Feathers
by georges1982-96
Summary: John isn't happy when he's raised from the dead to find his youngest son has taken up with an angel; a male angel. He has to push his prejudice aside when Sam disappears and they need Cas's help. Cas's wings were mangled and torn by his brothers when he fell, but he swears to himself that when he saves Sam, he'll stop hiding his scars to show Sam how much he honestly loves him.
1. Chapter 1

**So I should be working on the two chapter fics I have going, or sleeping because I start school tomorrow, but instead I wrote this! It was supposed to be a one-shot, but it got away from me, and now it'll be another chapter or so. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. **

**WARNINGS: slash, violence, mentions of assault and sexual assault (non explicit), language, homophobia (John is kind of mean in this one)**

**I hope you like it!**

* * *

John slammed the door of the scrap heap of a truck he'd driven to get to Bobby's, not finding it in himself to care when the force shook the vehicle, jerking one of the mirrors loose from its frail hold on the side of the truck and sending it smashing into the dirt. He stepped over the glass shards, hearing the satisfying crunch they made beneath the worn soles of his boots.

The Impala was parked in the driveway; it was impeccable, just like always. It looked exactly the same as it had before John had made his deal and been killed.

John hefted himself up the front steps, tottering slightly with exhaustion, and reached for the doorknob.

The door was yanked open before John could open it himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly when he was doused with holy water. "Bobby—"

"Shut up," Bobby snarled, tightening his grip on his knife. "Who are you?"

"Bobby, it's me," John insisted, taking a step back and opening his hands to show he wasn't hiding anything behind his back. "John Winchester. Two boys, Dean and Sam. That's my car parked in your driveway, so I'm guessing they're here."

"Why should I believe you?" Bobby spat at the man standing in his doorway. "Get off—"

"Dad?"

Both John and Bobby froze when Dean's voice drifted down the hallway. John leaned to the side to look around Bobby's shoulder. Dean was at the end of the hall, a knife held loosely in his hand and his stunned green eyes locked on his father.

"Dean," John breathed, taking a step towards his oldest without realizing it. Bobby growled lowly.

"Bobby?" Dean asked warily, striding down the hall to stand just behind the older hunter and peer over his shoulder. Dean looked good. He was healthy and alive, which was pretty much John's standard for 'good' anyway.

"Not a demon," Bobby replied. Dean darted around Bobby quickly and grabbed John's arm, twisting it around his back and digging his knife into the exposed skin.

John grunted and allowed Dean to manhandle him, not wanting to try to push him off or hurt him; that would probably look pretty damn suspicious.

Dean let John go and watched the wound carefully. It bled normally, showing no sign of any odd reaction to the blade. Dean pursed his lips and nodded shortly, seeming to resign himself to something, before hauling back and slamming his fist across John's face.

"Dean!" John clutched his jaw, shocked, and glared at his fuming son.

"You fucking deserved that," Dean snarled before turning on his heel and striding back into the house, not looking back. John heard a door slam deeper in the house and sighed.

"I guess I fucked that up," he muttered, glancing up at Bobby.

Bobby reluctantly stepped to the side to allow John inside, satisfied (for now) that he wasn't a threat. "You're pretty good at fucking things up with your kids, John."

* * *

"We should head back," Sam breathed softly, making no move to unwrap his arms from Cas's waist. Cas didn't try to move away; instead, he nuzzled his nose deeper into Sam's neck, his warm breath skittering across Sam's skin and sending shivers down his spine. Cas was absentmindedly tracing invisible letter in a language Sam didn't know on Sam's bare stomach, tucked up securely against Sam's side.

"You're probably right," Cas agreed softly, shifting closer to Sam. His trench coat, button down shirt, and slacks were neatly folded and placed on the chair in the corner of the small motel room, leaving him in his boxers, a white v-neck t-shirt, and black socks. It was as much as he was comfortable with that night; Sam had smiled softly and pressed his lips to Cas's the first time they shared a bed and he felt Cas's socked feet sliding between his calves.

Cas moved one hand to slide down Sam's chest and curl around his hip, under the waistband of his worn sweatpants. "Honestly, I am perfectly content here."

Sam laughed softly and moved one arm from around Cas to lace through the fingers Cas had splayed on his stomach. "So am I, babe. But Bobby and Dean are probably freaking out with how long we've been gone."

Cas raised his eyebrows in reluctant agreement. He felt Sam's hand slide under his shirt and run up and down his back. Cas's eyes slipped shut for a moment; Sam's hands were big and warm, and Cas wasn't used to being treated with so much tenderness. It felt good. He felt safe and cared for.

His mind wandered, unbidden, to Michael's hands in the same place Sam's had been, their goal to hurt and humiliate.

"What is it?" Sam felt Cas's body suddenly tense and stopped moving his hand over the smaller man's back. Cas didn't know how to tell Sam if he was uncomfortable; Sam had picked up on cues as they moved forward in their relationship. Sam knew there was a lot about Cas he didn't know yet, and the last thing he wanted to do was make him feel like he wasn't completely, unquestioningly safe with Sam.

Cas forced himself to relax. "It's nothing. Do not concern yourself."

"I'm supposed to concern myself," Sam pointed out. "I'm your boyfriend. Partner. Mate. It's what we do."

A warm feeling pooled in Cas's stomach when Sam called himself his mate. He knew it was a word that Sam wasn't used to using, but it meant a lot to Cas that he was making himself comfortable with it. He shook his head. "I'm fine, Sam. I promise you."

Sam reluctantly let the subject drop and returned to running his hand in soothing circles over Cas's back. He felt Cas tense again when his palm moved to cup his shoulder blade. "Am I…are your wings..?"

Cas nodded stiffly, his body tense and muscles knotted under Sam's hand. Sam slid it down to the small of Cas's back. He felt the tension ebb out of Cas's body.

"Can I see them?" Sam asked softly.

Cas hesitated a long time before replying slowly. "You have seen them. An angel's wings are very private, Sam."

"I know," Sam assured him quickly. "I just…I read that when an angel finds a mate…their mate is allowed to…to…"

"You want to touch them?" Cas asked quietly, curling up a little tighter against Sam, digging his fingers into Sam's hip harder without realizing it. He couldn't get the image of the last time he'd seen his own wings out of his mind; burned and charred by hellfire, their bones twisted and shattered by Michael's sure, steady hands, full clumps of feathers ripped out and cast aside. He buried his face in Sam's chest, pressing his nose into the warm skin. "I…you do not want to see them, Sam."

"Why not?" Sam demanded, irritation edging into his voice, no matter how hard he worked to keep it from showing. He had been reading up on angels, and everything he'd found said that letting someone touch their wings was the ultimate display of trust. Sam trusted Cas with his heart, with his soul, with his goddamned life. He'd thought that Cas had felt the same. "You don't trust me?"

"Of course I do," Cas snapped, shocked that Sam would even think he didn't trust him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked up at Sam with wide, honest blue eyes. "Sam, how many people do you think have seen me as vulnerable and as broken as I have allowed you to see me?"

Sam sucked on his bottom lip, thinking back to that night a couple months ago when Cas had shown up at their doorstep, exhausted and beaten half to death. Sam and Dean had fixed him up the best they could, but he didn't even seem to notice. He still seemed like he was in unbearable, gut wrenching agony. Sam had resorted to just pulling him close and holding Castiel's shaking, shuddering frame as the angel rode out the waves of pain.

It had been the first and only time he'd ever seen Cas cry.

He looked back down at the angel in his arms, met Cas's pale, ice blue eyes, and nodded shortly. "I…I didn't mean it like that. I just…I want you to trust me. Completely."

"I do," Cas insisted, placing a hand on Sam's chest, his palm covering Sam's heart. He felt the steady, reassuring beat under his hand and marginally relaxed. "Sam, I love you. You are misinterpreting what I'm saying."

Sam pursed his lips and nodded, turning his head away from Cas. He felt Cas's penetrating gaze on his face, reading his expression and scouring his features for some clue to the thoughts whirling around in Sam's head. Sam sighed. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just…a little disappointed."

Cas pushed himself into a sitting position, letting the sheets pool around his slim waist. He sighed and ran a hand through his thick, ruffled hair. "We really should go."

* * *

"—just suddenly ended up right back at that hospital where I died," John explained to Bobby and Dean, silently praying to a God he wasn't sure even existed anymore that they would believe him. Dean, who had been coaxed back into the kitchen by Bobby, was eying John suspiciously, still not sold that this was really his father. Bobby seemed a little more certain, though not entirely relaxed quite yet. "So I hotwired that truck and made my way here. I figured Bobby could help me find you and Sam." John paused for a moments and glanced around the kitchen. "Where is Sam, anyway?"

"He's out," Dean snapped quickly, his eyes flickering to the back porch. No sign of Sam and Cas yet. Dean hoped that when they did show up they held off on the affectionate gestures while they were in John's sight range. He doubted it; it's not as if they would be expecting a dead man to show up at Bobby's. "He'll be home soon."

"What's he doing?" John demanded, tensing and leaning forward in his chair. "You let him go out on his own? Dean it's dangerous out there, I thought I told you to—"

"You told me to kill him," Dean cut John off, his voice cold and firm. He shook his head and looked out the kitchen window over the dimly lit salvage yard. John shut his mouth and stared at Dean a few moments, shocked that Dean had interrupted him. Dean cleared his throat and added less harshly, "He's not alone, either. He's with Cas."

"Who's Cas?" John raised an eyebrow at Dean, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sam got himself a girl?"

Dean exchanged a fleeting glance with Bobby and shook his head. "Naw, Dad, it's not that. Cas is an angel. He's been helping us out lately."

John's eyebrows drew together in confusion at his older son's wording. Dean had never called someone an angel when he described them before, no matter how helpful they were. "Is he a hunter?"

"No," Dean's nose wrinkled and he scratched his chin, glancing away from his father. "Cas's real name is Castiel. He's an angel. Like, wings and heaven and church choirs."

John blinked and nodded slowly. "I…okay. They…they still exist? I thought…I thought they went extinct after the War with Lucifer. I studied them a while back on a hunt, but it never came to anything."

"Yeah," Dean muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. His eyes were burning with fatigue. "They're pretty damn real, and they're pretty damn angry at each other."

John sat back in his chair a minute, trying to digest the new information. He had a hell of a lot to catch up on.

The silence that had fallen over the kitchen was interrupted when Sam and Cas appeared on the back porch in a rustle of feathers. Cas had a firm grip on Sam's bicep, and Sam had a hand wrapped tightly around Cas's other wrist. Sam struggled to gain his balance and reorient himself. Travelling by angel was unpleasant at best, and downright terrifying most of the time.

"Hey, Sam!" Bobby called gruffly, trying to get their attention before they did anything that would give them away. Sam started at Bobby's voice and turned to peer in through the kitchen window. "Get in here a minute."

"Okay," Sam replied, his tone laced with confusion. He pushed the door open and held it for Cas, letting the smaller man slip by him into the dimly lit kitchen.

Cas's expression grew dark when he caught sight of John. Dean watched Cas's hand move behind him and grab at the hem of Sam's jacket to make sure Sam stayed behind him. Sam's eyebrows drew together when he felt Cas tense and push him back protectively. He glanced up, searching for what had put the angel so on edge.

When Sam's gaze fell on John, his eyes widened and his jaw went slack. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but no words came out. He tried to take a step forward, but found himself running into Cas's back, unable to push the angel out of the way.

"Wait, Sam," Cas commanded softly. His pale gaze ran up and down John, evaluating him, picking him apart until he was satisfied he'd gotten a good enough reading on the man. He wasn't a demon, that much Cas was sure of. There was no indication that John had been raised by anything wishing to do harm to Sam or Dean, no sign that John had any malicious intentions, but that left the question of what had brought him back to life and why.

Dean tapped his foot impatiently, watching as Cas eyed John up suspiciously. "Well, Cas? Anything?"

Cas shook his head slowly, tearing his eyes from John and glancing back at Sam.

John let out an inaudible sigh of relief when the dark haired man (angel, he corrected himself) lost interest in him and returned his attention to Sam. Sam was gaping at John, pale and speechless. John noticed that Sam had one hand curled into the side of Castiel's trench coat, right over the angel's hip. John's eyes narrowed slightly; Sam seemed a little more comfortable with this guy than John had anticipated.

"I can sense no ill will," Cas replied, his deep, gravelly voice still holding a note of suspicion. Castiel was still mostly focused on Sam; he had partially turned to face Sam, placing a gently hand on Sam's chest to restrain him and offer him comfort.

"Dad?" Sam breathed softly, his fingers digging into Cas's hip almost painfully. Cas pressed his hand firmly over Sam's heart, noting the acceleration on the beat under his palm. "Dad, what are you..? How did you..?"

"I don't know," Dad stood up and held out his hands. He shrugged and shook his head, a smile spreading across his lips as he looked at his youngest. "I just…was suddenly back at the hospital. I don't know how, I don't know what… God, Sammy, you look...your hair…"

Cas gently dug Sam's hands out of his jacket and stepped aside so John could pull Sam into an embrace. John got the distinct impression the angel was giving him permission to touch Sam, like he was allowing him to embrace his son. It was off putting. He expected that kind of behavior from Dean, being the extremely over protective big brother he was, but from a guy who Sam couldn't have known more than a year or two? Who did he think he was?

Sam hugged John back, the shock of seeing him again slowly wearing off. He felt Dad's hand steal up to stroke his long hair, and he buried his face in his father's shoulder, inhaling the scent of sweat, singed fabric, and motor oil.

John squeezed his arms tightly around Sam's back, and whispered gruffly, "I'm so sorry, Sam. I'm so, so sorry."

Sam shook his head, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He wanted to push his father away, to yell at him, scream at him for what he'd put him and Dean through, but he couldn't make himself do it. He remembered all the times Dad had left them alone to hunt for weeks at a time; Sam had missed him like hell, and he knew Dean had, too, even if he'd never admit it. When Dad had gotten home and hugged them hello, it seemed like all the anger and fear and frustration from when he'd been gone melted away for just a few moments when they were wrapped in his strong arms.

Sam felt the same way now; there was no anger, just pure relief that their dad was safe.

"I know, Dad," Sam mumbled, ducking his head and pressing his forehead into Dad's shoulder. "I know."

* * *

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, steadily ignoring the stinging in the corner of his eyes. He looked at himself in the mirror over the small sink, taking in his pallid skin and the sheen in his clouded green eyes.

He sighed and dropped his head again, gripping the edge of the sink to keep himself upright.

He could hear Dad and Bobby in the kitchen, their voices low and gruff. Sam had pretty much detached after he and Dad had broken their embrace; his gaze had gotten distant and far away, and he obviously hadn't paid attention to a word anyone had said. Cas had slipped his hand into Sam's under the table and tugged at his fingers gently, his gaze flickering to the doorway. Sam had nodded shortly and Cas had risen to his feet, given the rest of the table a polite nod, and tugged Sam up the stairs with him, slipping an arm around his waist to guide the dazed man.

Dean figured they were in one of the guest rooms. Cas was probably trying to calm Sam down and get him to talk.

He let go of the sink and straightened up, running his hands over his face once more before checking himself in the mirror; his eyes were a little red, but nothing else gave away his minor freak out.

He pushed open the bathroom door and started down the hallway towards the guest room he was camped out in. It was the one at the end of the hall (closest to Bobby's room) that he and Sam had always shared when they'd stayed there as kids. He slowed his pace when he caught snatches of Cas's voice floating from under the door next to the bathroom.

"…okay, Sam," Cas was saying softly, his voice low and soothing. "I promise…okay…love you…"

After a few moments, Dean realized that he'd come to a full stop outside the door. He hesitated a moment before raising his fist and knocking lightly on the door.

"Come in, Dean," Cas called quietly.

Dean pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. Cas was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his trench coat and shoes tossed onto the floor next to him. Sam was curled up on his side, the back of his head resting on Cas's lap, his eyes shut. Cas carded his fingers through Sam's hair, gently rubbing Sam's scalp and the back of his neck. Cas's expression was fraught with worry as he looked down at Sam's face. Even asleep, Sam looked upset.

Dean stood by the door and cleared his throat, linking his hands behind his back. "I figured you two would be neck deep in a girl-fest of emotions by now."

"Sam is still in shock," Cas replied steadily, squeezing Sam's other hand tightly where their fingers were laced together. "I think…I think he'll be fine if he gets some sleep."

"Sleep?" Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Our dad is back from the dead and you think Sam just needs some sleep?"

Cas shot Dean a harsh glare and continued to stroke Sam's hair gently. Sam shifted slightly, tightening his hand around Cas's. "I think you both need to talk to your father."

"You think we…" Dean snorted, rubbing his eyes irritably and turning away from his brother and his brother's stupid angel boyfriend. He didn't need his pity, he didn't need to be condescended to. "What would you even know about fathers?"

Cas's hand froze in Sam's hair. His fingers moved from Sam's face and tightened into a fist. He ducked his head, but Dean saw his eyes flash dangerously. When he spoke, his voice was low. "I'm sorry."

Dean sucked on his bottom lip and let out a long breath through his nose. "Cas, I didn't mean…"

"Just don't, Dean," Cas's head snapped up so he could meet Dean's eyes, and the fire burning in Cas's gaze was enough to make Dean take a step back. "If Sam wakes up, I don't want you around him while you're like this."

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and nodded shortly. He reached for the door and pulled it open.

Sam must have heard the knob turn, because he stirred and his eyes flickered open for a moment. A small sound escaped his lips and he reached a hand up to touch Cas's stubbly cheek tenderly. "Cas…"

"Shhh, Sam," Cas's expression immediately slipped back into one of concern and reassurance. "It's alright. Go back to sleep, babe, we can talk in the morning."

Sam smiled softly, his eyes drifting shut again. He nuzzled his face against Cas's stomach, his warm breath seeping through the thin fabric of Cas's shirt. "I love you."

Cas rubbed the back of Sam's neck gently. He nodded a little bit, biting his bottom lip. "I love you, too. Get some rest."

It seemed like Sam hadn't even notice Dean was in the room and Cas had forgotten his presence.

Dean started to pull the door shut, but stopped when Sam's slurred voice caught his ear. "You, too, Dean."

Dean tugged the door the rest of the way shut, the vice grip their Dad's return had left around his heart slightly loosening.

* * *

John shuffled down the stairs the next morning, running a hand through his damp hair and yawning. He felt better than he had since he'd been back after getting some sleep and jumping in the shower, but he was still starving. He'd barely stopped to eat on his drive to Bobby's, too consumed by the need to find his sons and make sure they were okay.

He turned to corner to the kitchen, but paused when he heard voices coming from the small room. There was no way Dean was up this early, so he figured it must be Bobby or Sam.

When he peered around the corner, he was surprised to see Castiel perched on the edge of the counter and Sam at the stove, a spatula in one of his hands. They were talking softly, their heads bent towards each other as they spoke. Sam had a soft, intimate smile on his lips that made John feel like he was intruding on something private.

But he couldn't be. Why would he be? Sam was in there with an angel, a male angel, not a girl. It wasn't as if John could be interrupting anything.

He was about to step into the kitchen when Sam threw back his head and laughed before he leaned forward to close the distance between himself and Castiel and press their lips together, a small smile still on his face.

A small sound of surprise escaped John's lips before he could stop it.

Sam drew away from Castiel and whirled around to face the doorway, his eyes wide with shock. "Dad, I—"

"What..?" John gaped at his son, his eyes flickering back and forth between Sam and Castiel, whose cheeks were taking on a decidedly red flush. "Sam, I don't… what's going on?"

"Nothing," Sam tried weakly, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. Cas shifted beside him uncomfortably, his thigh pressing against Sam's side. "We were just…"

"Making out?" John finished for him, his tone harsher than he meant it to be. "Sam, what the hell?"

Sam ducked his head, his think hair falling into his eyes and hiding them from John's view. He started to speak, his voice uncertain and quiet. "I didn't know how to…I wasn't sure what you would…"

"You weren't sure how I'd react to the fact you were screwing an angel?" John demanded, his voice rising as he spoke. He took an imposing step forward and glared at Sam, fury contorting his features. "Well don't be shocked that I'm not happy!"

"Because he's an angel?" Sam snapped, his voice growing stronger and more firm. He stood up straight, dropping his arms to his side and curling his fingers into fists. He was so fucking tired of hiding from his dad, of just taking whatever Dad gave him and doing what he said. He took a step closer to John, challenging him. "Or because he's a man?"

John set his jaw and stepped forward, so he and Sam were separated by less than a foot of space. Sam met his gaze steadily, defiantly refusing to drop his eyes to the floor like he'd been taught.

John was going to have to fix that.

"I think we both know the answer to that," John replied through gritted teeth. "You remember what I told you when you were in high school?"

"Cas would never do that," Sam snapped firmly, sounding absolutely positive. "He would never…he wouldn't hurt me."

"He will do nothing but hurt you," John hissed softly, gripping Sam's biceps and pulling him close, trying to make Sam understand. "Men aren't supposed to…it's not right, Sam. He's using you, that's all this is."

"What the fuck is going on down here?" Dean stormed down the stairs and into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes blearily, woken up moments ago by yelling. He froze in the doorway when he saw Sam and Dad standing toe to toe, both of them obviously furious. Cas was hovering by the counter, looking unsure if he should interfere or not.

John and Sam both spared Dean a glance, then went back to glaring at each other. Dad replied first, his voice so low it was almost a growl. "Did you know about this?"

Dean stomach dropped when he realized what Dad was talking about. He must have walked in on Sam and Cas. It's not like Sam would have told him that he was in a committed relationship with a man. He hadn't even told Dean about Cas; he'd had to find out on his own.

* * *

_Dean jerked awake when he heard the unmistakable sound of the Impala's engine pulling into the otherwise silent parking lot of the motel. He rubbed his eyes blearily and pushed himself up so he wasn't hunching over the small wooden table anymore. He caught sight of a small puddle of drool on the light stain of the wood, and swiped at it with his sleeve. He must have fallen asleep after he sent Sam out to get dinner._

_ He glanced at the clock. 10:56._

_ "What the hell?" Dean squinted at the electric clock, not sure he was seeing the numbers clearly. Sam had left at 8:30. What the fuck was he doing that took so long?_

_ Dean's stomach sank when he thought back to the times Sam had snuck out for demon blood. He quickly forced himself to stop that train of thought. Fresh start. Sam was just getting back into the swing of things, he didn't need Dean accusing him of relapsing. Anyway, it wasn't like he showed any signs of drinking the stuff again._

_ Nonetheless, he approached the kitchen window and easily picked out the Impala in the parking lot. Sam had parked on the end of the lot by their room, giving Dean a good view of the car. He watched Sam climb out, taking note of Sam's genuine, soft smile and ruffled hair. Dean had to force himself not to let his mind go there; Ruby was gone, she and Sam weren't…dabbling anymore._

_ But Dean hadn't seen Sam smile like that since…he couldn't even remember. _

_ Dean watched in confusion as Sam rounded the car quickly to pull the passenger's door open. _

_ And hell if Dean wasn't shocked when Cas slid out, his trench coat left in a crumpled, tan heap in the front seat. Without the coat, Cas seemed much less intimidating; Dean was actually surprised by how small Cas actually was. _

_ Sam put his hands on the car on either side of Cas and leaned closer, ducking his head as he spoke softly to Cas. Cas didn't seem to detest the close contact; he seemed to revel in it, actually. He tilted his face upwards to look at Sam, his blue eyes wide and light._

_ "What the fuck?" Dean muttered, pushing aside the net curtains to get a better view. One of Cas's hands moved to cup Sam's hip to pull him closer._

_ Dean expected Sam to freak, but Sam just grinned and allowed himself to be tugged up against Cas. He let go of the car so he could slide his arms around Cas's neck and bent his head so their foreheads touched. Cas closed the distance between them, sealing their lips together gently._

_ An indignant, high-pitched noise (that Dean would forever deny came out of his mouth) escaped Dean's lips and he clutched the bottom of the window frame tightly, his finger nails digging into the peeling paint._

_ What the actual FUCK was going on?_

_ Dean wasn't blind; he'd seen the glances they shared, he'd seen the lingering touches that could conceivably be brushed off as innocent, he saw the way they looked at each other when the other wasn't looking. He'd shrugged it off; it's not as if he thought it would lead anywhere. Cas was a thousand year old virgin, for God's sake._

_ But here they were, all over each other in the parking lot of a skanky motel._

_ Sam hadn't even told him. That was what really hurt._

_ Dean set his jaw and watched as they drew apart, smiling at each other like idiots. They exchanged a few more words before Sam stood up straight and Cas vanished from his spot between Sam's arms. _

_ Dean turned from the window and plopped back down in the kitchen chair, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the door as he waited for Sam to push it open._

_ He had some explaining to do._

_Sam pushed the door to the motel room open, the tingling feeling on his lips from where Cas's had been pressed fading, but the feeling of contentment that Cas left him with still warming his chest. He had a paper bag with a couple burgers in it in one hand, and he hoped that would be enough to shut Dean up for a little while. He'd stayed out longer than he'd meant to, and he knew Dean would be suspicious._

_ He had a right to be, Sam reminded himself, trying to ignore the stab of pain that sent through his heart. Stop it. He and Dean were past that. Fresh start._

_ When Sam opened the door, he was met by the sight of Dean sitting with his arms crossed, glaring at the door like it had personally offended him. Sam shut the door behind him and locked it, double-checking that the salt lines hadn't broken. "Food's here."_

_ "Took you long enough," Dean grunted, not reaching out to take the bag from Sam. Sam's heart sped up as Dean scrutinized him. _

_ Sam tried to look unconcerned. "I got held up. Traffic was hell."_

_ Dean grunted again and snatched the bag from Sam, placing it on the table without opening it. "Are you eating, too, or did you already have dinner with your boyfriend?"_

_ Sam sighed and slid into the chair across from Dean, rubbing his face with his hands. "I was going to tell you…"_

_ "When?" Dean demanded, sitting up straight and leaning forward. He tried to sound disinterested and angry, but Sam could hear that he was hurt. "When you and Cas decided to get married and shack up together?"_

_ "Stop it," Sam snapped, pushing his chair away from the table. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but that doesn't give you the right to start freaking out at me like I'm doing something wrong."_

_ Dean blinked a few times before he managed to state, "Sam, Cas is a dude."_

_ Sam rolled his eyes. "Wow, Dean, that's amazing. Your powers of observation are really—"_

_ "You know what I mean," Dean cut him off, irritated with Sam's condescending tone and flippant words. "You had Jessica, she definitely wasn't a guy." Dean paused for a moment, his expression shifting slightly. "Jessica definitely wasn't a guy, right?"_

_ "No, she wasn't," Sam replied tersely. "I can't be interested in both?"_

_ "Of course, I mean, I just thought…" Dean sighed, his anger deflating. Sam was trying to look tough, but Dean could tell Sam was terrified of what he'd say. Dad hadn't been really…open-minded. He'd made some comments, said some things about homosexual people that were straight up cruel. In high school, Sam had assured him that his boyfriend had just been a phase after Sam had been beaten half to death by a group of homophobic teenagers. It wasn't any wonder Sam had kept it to himself. Dean couldn't be mad at him for that. "How long has it been?"_

_ "A couple months," Sam responded hesitantly, unsure of where Dean was going with this. "We, uh…he showed up when you were out one night, and I told him he might as well stay awhile." Sam shrugged. "He kissed me. I… after that, he came by a little more frequently, we went out together on the nights you went down to the bar…"_

_ Dean nodded, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his temples. He let out a long breath. He had no way to ask this without sounding like a total girl. "Are you happy, Sam?" _

_ Sam didn't hesitate; he nodded, a small smile stealing across his lips. He brushed his hair out of his face and leaned back in his chair, relaxing slightly when Dean dropped the interrogation tactic. "Remember how I told you I always felt…angry, at everything, lately?" Dean nodded slowly. "When I'm with him…I'm not angry anymore. I just feel…better."_

_ Dean pursed his lips and nodded shortly. Sam seemed serious about this. Dean's mind flashed back to the smile on Sam's face when he'd been talking to Cas, to the way Sam's body had been completely relaxed when he was wrapped in Cas's arms; honestly, Sam had looked happier than Dean had seen him in years. How could he be mad at Sam for finding something that made him happy?_

_ Dean grunted and snatched the paper bag off the table, unrolling the top. "You better have remembered the extra onions."_

* * *

"Yeah," Dean replied, running a hand through his hair and glancing over at Sam apologetically. "Yeah, I knew."

"And you let this happen?" John demanded, shooting Dean a glare filled with so much venom Dean actually flinched. "I told you to take care of Sam! You can't do one fucking job right!"

"Dad, lay off him," Sam snapped, shoving at John's shoulder so that the taller man's attention was drawn back to him. "Dean does take care of me, better than you ever did."

"I took damn good care of both of you," John retorted, shoving Sam's chest roughly. "I was alone, with two toddlers, and I did a damn good job keeping you alive."

"Gee, thanks," Sam snorted. "Excuse me if I don't elect you for parent of the year."

Cas stepped forward, placing a hand on Sam's chest, intending to separate Sam and John and get them to calm down and speak rationally. "Please, I think it would be—"

"Get your hands off my son, you disgusting perv," John shoved Cas away from Sam roughly. Cas stumbled back a few steps, but caught himself before he overbalanced. "Don't try to tell me how to handle my sons."

Sam's eyes blazed with fury. His lip curled in disgust and he growled lowly, "If you talk to him like that again, I will hurt you. And if you touch him again, I will fucking kill you."

"Why so protective of him?" John sneered. "He needs you to stick up for him? That's so cute, Sammy. He's using you."

"He loves me," Sam replied without hesitation, and damn it if the kid had never sounded more sure of himself than he did in that moment. "I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions, and I love him, too."

John's vision was obscured for seconds by a flash of white, and he lashed out at Sam violently.

When John's gaze cleared, he was left in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the space where Sam had just been. Sam had stumbled back from the force of the blow, crashing into the cabinets and sending some of Bobby's mismatched glassware flying. It smashed against the wood floor in tiny slivers and jagged shards.

Sam fell against the counter, right into Castiel's arms. Castiel caught him before he could crumple to the ground and held him up, afraid that if he let Sam fall, he would get cut up from the glass covering the floor. Sam clutched at his jaw, his eyes squeezed closed tightly in pain; he hadn't been ready for the blow. His dad had never hit him before.

"Dad!" Dean yelled, moving to restraint their father from hitting Sam again. John strained against him, obviously still furious, but couldn't break out of Dean's iron grip. He had the distant thought that Dean had really gotten stronger while he was gone. Dean shoved him away from Sam, planting himself firmly between them. If that didn't sum up their lives, John didn't know what did. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" John spit angrily, glaring at Sam. "What's wrong with him? I should have kept him at home, college put ridiculous ideas in his head! I knew this would happen! I knew he was wrong! Your mother would be disgusted!"

Sam took the verbal assault without giving a visible reaction until the last phrase that fell from John's lips. Cas felt Sam's whole body flinch at the words. He tightened his arms around Sam, wanting to comfort him, but unsure of what to do while his furious father was standing right there. Sam suddenly pushed Cas away and darted towards the back door.

"Sam!" Cas called, starting after him out the door.

Sam whirled around and met Cas's gaze, his hazel eyes wide and pleading. He'd have a nasty bruise of his jaw in a couple hours. "Cas, please, don't. I just…I need some time."

Cas's expression crumpled and he rubbed his nose, troubled. He knew Sam could protect himself, and that Bobby's was fairly safe, but he was reluctant to let Sam out on his own while he was so obviously emotionally distraught.

Sam surged forward and kissed Cas on the lips, hard and desperate. He drew away, gripping Cas's elbows tightly. "I promise, babe, I swear to God, Cas, I will be back."

Sam let go of Cas and disappeared out the door, heading deep into the junk yard.

"Good," John's voice made Cas turn back to the kitchen. John had stopped struggling against Dean, but Dean kept a cautionary grip on his elbow just in case he decided to take off after Sam. "Let him go, then."

"Dad, you need to calm down," Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You can't just hit him like that. You can't talk to him like that."

"He's my son," John argued, tearing his arm away from Dean.

Dean reasserted his grip on John's arm and forced John to turn back to face him. He met John's gaze steadily and calmly replied, "He's my baby brother. And if you touch him again, I will hurt you. If Cas doesn't smite you first."

Cas tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in agreement.

"You want to know what really happened to him last time he was with a guy, Dean?" John said, meeting Dean's eyes meaningfully. "That guy beat him half to death when Sam said no. It wasn't a bunch of homophobes. It was his boyfriend."

Dean's eyebrows drew together. His mouth fell open like he want to speak, but couldn't find the words. Sam had never told him. Dean had suspected something was going on, with the way Sam had flinched at people's touch, and retreated into himself for a while after, but he'd chalked it up to the stress of being assaulted.

A darker thought crossed Dean's mind. "Did he…oh, God, did he touch Sammy after Sammy said no?"

Cas turned his face away, clenching his hands into fists.

* * *

_Cas traced his fingers down Sam's back, entranced by the thin white lines curling over the soft skin in intricate patterns._

_ Sam remained still under his touch, but Cas felt the knots his muscles had curled into under his scarred skin. Cas leaned forward and stretched out next to Sam, his finger trailing along a scar that wrapped around Sam's side and came to an stop over his heart. _

_ Cas glanced up at Sam inquisitively. _

_ Sam smiled bitter sweetly and sighed, dropping his forehead to the top of Cas's messy, soft hair. "It's a long story."_

_ "Someone did this to you," Cas said softly. "They're…they're deliberate. This wasn't a hunt."_

_ "No, it wasn't," Sam admitted, nuzzling his nose in Cas's hair. "I…I told you about the guy I was dating in high school."_

_ Cas nodded. _

_ "When we ended it…" Sam sighed again and looked away from Cas, his neck flushing red with humiliation when he thought back to that night. "He, uh…he'd dragged me to this party. He was buzzed, and he'd talked me into drinking a couple beers. I didn't hold alcohol well, so I was pretty…pretty trashed. He brought me into a bedroom, and he wanted to…" Sam made a vague motion with his hands, hoping Cas got it. He cleared his throat. "I wasn't ready, we'd only been together a couple weeks. He kept going, and I tried to stop him…"_

_ "He didn't," Cas pushed himself up and looked down at Sam, anger rising in his chest at the thought of someone forcing themselves on Sam, of holding him down, of touching him like that when Sam said no. "Sam, give me a name, I will kill him for even ever thinking…"_

_ "Hey, Cas, shhh," Sam reached up to stroke Cas's hair, running his fingers through the short, messy stands. Cas looked down at him, his blue eyes filled with anger and concern, his hands on either side of Sam's chest. Sam slid his hand around Cas's neck and cupped his cheek with his hand. He felt Cas's stubble scraping against his palm and smiled a little bit. "He didn't, okay? He didn't actually go through with it. He did…he had a knife and he sliced me up, said it was so people could see how messed up I was inside written on my skin…"_

_ "Sam…" Cas breathed, not sure what to say. "I…that's wrong of him. You're not messed up. You are hurt and you've been through so much..." Sam looked up at him, his dark eyes locked on Cas's face. His hair fell around him in a soft halo if brown against the white pillow, and his lips were slightly parted as he gazed up at Cas, drinking in his every word. "You…" Cas stroked a stray strand of hair out of Sam's eyes. "You are so strong, Sam. So incredibly strong. I can't imagine…" Cas's eyes wandered to Sam's chest; he touched one of the scars lightly. "They're beautiful."_

_ Sam snorted in disbelief, turning his face from Cas. _

_ Cas gripped Sam's chin and coaxed to bigger man into looking at him again. He kissed Sam's forehead, brushing his thick hair aside. "You're beautiful."_

* * *

"The man stopped before it got that far," Cas said through gritted teeth, recalling the small, methodical white lines that worked their way intimately up the insides of Sam's thighs. "He threatened and taunted, but he didn't…" Cas turned to John and said firmly. "I…I would never hurt Sam."

John 'humphed' and crossed his arms, plopping into one of the kitchen chairs. John recalled some of the research he'd done on angels years ago, and challenged the one standing before him, "Have you even let him touch your wings yet?"

Cas pursed his lips, glancing away from John. He didn't want to explain. Not to anyone, and especially not to someone so close to Sam.

"That's what I thought," John muttered, turning his back on Cas and looking up at Dean. "We're going to talk about this once Sam cools off."

"I think maybe you should go cool off, too," Dean suggested, his tone bordering on being disrespectful. "I know you don't like it, Dad, but it's the way Sam is. I'm not going to let you be a jerk to him about something he can't help."

John stood up and sucked on his bottom lip, regarding Dean with an almost curious expression on his face. After a few moments, he seemed to make a decision. He nodded shortly and disappeared back up the stairs.

Dean sighed and sank into a chair, his head in his hands. Cas moved to the kitchen window, searching the wreckage strewn in the yard for a glimpse of Sam.

* * *

When Sam wasn't back in three hours, Cas started to get edgy.

When Sam wasn't back in seven hours, Dean was at Cas's side, gazing out the window with a troubled expression.

When Sam was still gone and it was dark outside, Dean and Cas exchanged a glance before rising to their feet and going to find Bobby and John, panic tugging at their hearts.

* * *

**There it is so far!**

**Please review to let me know what you think so far! I'll need them with school starting...Seriously though, they make my day, so if you have a second, I appreciate it.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, sorry this took so long. My laptop broke, and it was just fixed today, so I edited this as fast as I could and posted it. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate it, and they do genuinely make my day.**

**Chapter warnings: slash, violence, language, mentions of torture (implied)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters within.**

* * *

"SAM!" Dean called, striding through the rows of mangled cars and discarded parts. He could hear Cas, Bobby, and Dad calling Sam's name as they moved around the other parts of the scrapyard. Cas had been the first one out there, practically tearing apart the yard in his haste to find Sam.

It had been almost an hour. Dean was becoming more and more panicked when there was no sign of Sam as the sun sank below the horizon in the distance and the junkyard was plunged into pure darkness.

"He's not here."

Dean almost ran into Cas when he turned the corner. Cas looked up at him, his expression stoic, but his wide blue eyes betraying his fear and concern. Dean gripped Cas's arms, partly to keep him from toppling over when they ran into each other, and partly to offer him some comfort. "Cas…"

"I can't hear him, Dean, I can't feel him," Cas continued, his breath ragged and uneven as the words tumbled out of his mouth. "That's not possible, our bond hasn't been broken, something is blocking it, I can't feel him, Dean…"

"Hey, Cas, calm down," Dean cut him off, using his grip on the fallen angel to guide him to a car across the aisle and push him to sit on the dented, crushed hood.

Cas struggled against Dean, but found himself being overpowered by the larger man and forced to plop down on the cold metal of the car hood. The ease with which Dean pushed him down was a testament to how quickly his Grace was fading. His mind was racing and his head was spinning; he hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Sam had been restless, tossing and turning all night despite Cas's best efforts to soothe him into a deeper sleep.

_"'M fine, Cas," Sam murmured, batting away Cas's hand cupping his cheek and instinctively shifting closer to the warmth and comfort Cas offered. "Get s'm sleep…"_

_ Cas nodded to appease Sam, his hair tickling Sam's temple when he moved his head. He rubbed Sam's back soothingly despite Sam's protest. "I'm not tired."_

_ Sam buried his face in Cas's neck and sighed, his warm breath skittering over Cas's pale skin. "You should still…still…"_

_ "Don't concern yourself," Cas said softly, watching Sam's eyes drift shut as slumber tugged him into the peaceful oblivion of unconsciousness. Cas was relieved to see Sam's expression smooth out. The lines of stress and worry disappeared from his forehead and between his eyebrows; he looked years younger, and it reminded Cas of when they'd first met. He ran his hand through Sam's soft locks where they were splayed over the pillow; his hair really had gotten long since then. It tickled Cas's face sometimes when they kissed, and the thought of it made Cas smile a little bit._

_ "L've you," Sam mumbled, rolling over and tugging Cas's arm around his waist to pull the smaller man with him. Cas complied with Sam's actions and moved to lie with his chest pressed to Sam's back. He rested his forehead at the nape of Sam's neck. He could see the faint scars on Sam's back. He ran his fingers over them lightly, just barely brushing his fingertips over the thin white lines. Sam's breathing deepened and evened out._

_ Cas closed his eyes and whispered against Sam's shoulder, "I love you, too."_

"Hey, Cas, come back to me, man," Cas was snapped out of the memory by Dean roughly shaking him by his shoulders. Dean was looking down at him with troubled green eyes, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. "We will find him, alright? Just calm the hell down for a second."

"Anything?" Bobby caught sight of them when he rounded the corner and approached them quickly, his eyes dark with worry.

Dean shook his head and glanced down at the end of the rows of cars to where John was heading purposefully towards them. "No. What could have gotten in here?"

"I don't know, Dean," Bobby replied irritably, taking his hat off for a second to rub his thinning hair. "Anything, really. Maybe Sam wasn't taken. Maybe he went for a walk to clear his head."

"And leave without telling us?" Cas demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. His pale eyes flickered up to meet Bobby's and Bobby was slightly thrown by the determination in his gaze. "Sam would never do that. Something is wrong."

"Where the fuck is he?" Cas was suddenly yanked to his feet by the front of his coat and thrown back against the side on a rusting van, pinned there by a furious John Winchester. Cas gripped John's wrists and struggled to pry the man's fingers out of his jacket, but had no success in loosening his iron grip. John pushed him back against the cold metal, snarling threateningly. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"What did I do?" Cas repeated, confused by John's accusation. "I did nothing. I don't know where he is any more than you do."

"Yeah, right," John growled, shoving Cas's body against the van, hard. A loose piece of metal dug into the small of Cas's back painfully every time he inhaled. "Like I'm going to believe you after all I saw your brother do in Hell."

"Lucifer is not my brother," Cas said calmly, shifting his gaze to meet John's eyes, his gaze honest and open. "I have no allegiance to him, or to any of my other siblings."

John's eyebrows drew together as he regarded Cas curiously, clearly not understanding Cas's statement. "What do you mean?"

"I—" Cas began to reply but was cut off when Dean was suddenly between them, shoving John off of Cas and pushing him away.

"Dad, leave him alone," Dean said quietly, glancing away from his father as he spoke. He tried to keep his voice firm, but he had a hard time standing up to his father. He always had. That had been Sammy's area of expertise. "He's good, alright? He wouldn't hurt Sammy. Now can we please calm down and think rationally for two fucking seconds so we can decide what to do to find Sam and bring him home?"

John reluctantly took a step back, shaking Dean off. "Watch your tone."

A muscle in Dean's jaw jumped, but he didn't try to argue with his father. Cas stood up straight and brushed himself off, eyeing John distrustfully.

"Where the hell are we supposed to start?" Bobby spoke up first, breaking the tense silence. "I didn't find anything telling; no sulfur, no blood, no footprints or claw marks anywhere…"

Dean pursed his lips and set his jaw, shooting a quick glance at Cas, who looked slightly dazed and a little lost. "We'll treat this like any other case. We've got to find him."

* * *

Sam grunted softly when he felt a soft hand on his cheek, urging him awake gently. "C'mon, Cas, not yet…"

The hand slid to his chin and tightened its grip, forcing Sam's face to tilt upwards.

Sam's eyes flickered open in alarm when he realized that the touch wasn't Cas. He found himself looking up into the face of a man he'd never seen before. The skin of the man's face was peeling slightly to reveal angry red patches of skin that looked like burns. He smiled warmly at Sam. "Good morning, Sammy."

Sam jerked away from the man, inwardly panicking when he found that his wrists were bound tightly to the chair behind him. He looked around the room, evaluating where he was and searching for any escape routes. It was dark, and thick, rusted pipes ran along the ceilings and walls; basement, definitely. There were four small windows set up high in the walls; Sam pursed his lips, trying to gauge if he could fit through them if he needed to. The only door was across the room, guarded by a woman who looked disinterested in what was going on in the rest of the room.

"Who are you?" Sam demanded, squirming in the chair imperceptibly so he could shift his hand to reach for the small knife he kept in his back pocket. He could cut himself free and try to take this guy down. He'd have the element of surprise on his side. He just needed to distract the guy for a few minutes while he tried to get a grip on the knife tucked in his back pocket.

"It hurts me that you don't recognize me," the man braced his arms on either side of the arms of Sam's chair, leaning down so his face was only inches from Sam's. Sam grimaced, turning his face away so he couldn't feel the man's hot breath on his face. The man grinned, pleased, and reached back to pluck the knife from Sam's fingers easily. "You were the one who set me free from Hell, after all."

* * *

Bobby glanced up when he heard John let out a small choked gasp. His eyes were burning with lack of sleep. They had been searching for three days for any sign of Sam; no other hunters had seen him, no one had heard from him, there was nothing in the scrap yard to indicate where he'd gone, and they'd been reduced to searching through books and archives for some ideas of what could have taken him. Dean, John, and Cas had spent two days searching the woods as thoroughly as possible, but came up with nothing. "What?"

"I think…" John's forehead scrunched up with lines of pain and he buried his face in his hands. He hunched over in his chair, not noticing when he knocked the book he'd been searching through off the table.

"John?" Bobby rose to his feet to go to his side, but Dean beat him there, having heard his father's distress from the kitchen.

Dean put a hand on John's back and spoke to him quietly but firmly. "Dad, hey, c'mon. What is it? What do you see?"

John batted Dean's hands away and rubbed his temples irritably. "Don't touch me."

Dean pulled his hands away as if he'd been burned, and the flash of hurt on his face made Bobby want to smack John Winchester upside the head. Dean had practically grown up as both of Sam's parents, as John's perfect little solider and nurse and babysitter all in one, and John couldn't take three seconds to give him any goddamned recognition or validation.

Cas watched from the doorway, leaning heavily on the doorframe and regarding them all with eyes swirling with worry and confusion. Something was wrong. John was breathing deeply now, the pain seeming to have passed, but Castiel was more concerned by the nature of the pain. That had been a vision, identical to the ones Sam used to get frequently.

"Dad, what is it?" Dean tried again, not moving to touch his father again. John shook his head and scrubbed at his eyes with his hands roughly. "Dad, what the hell was that? Because it looked a hell of a lot like you were having a fucking vision."

"That's never happened before," John muttered, resting his elbows on the table and putting his forehead in his hands. "I…God…"

Cas stiffened slightly at the mention of God, glancing upwards reflexively before he remembered that he wouldn't hear anything. Not anymore.

"What did you see, John?" Bobby demanded irritably, watching Dean shift uncomfortably where he stood a few feet from his father, obviously unsure of how much contact or interaction would be tolerated. It made Bobby sick sometimes. "Everything you remember, go."

"It was just…it was some graveyard," John shrugged, rubbing his temples and squeezing his eyes shut for a minute. "I…It was pretty damn generic, Bobby. I don't even know what it was."

"Something is not right," Cas muttered, examining John carefully. "You…you have no recollection of how you returned to Earth?"

"No," John shook his head. "I just…was suddenly back in the hospital, not a scratch on me."

"Whatever brought you back must have wanted you to see these visions," Cas spoke slowly, trying to work it out in his mind. It was obvious that John had been brought back by a powerful being, though whether its aim was to hurt or to help, Cas wasn't sure. "Did you see anything else?"

"Well, I…" John pursed his lips together tightly. "I thought… there was a…Sammy's laptop. Just…just lying there in the grass."

"What?" Dean asked after a few moments of silence. He stared at his father in disbelief, anger written across his expression. "Why the fuck would his laptop be in the middle of some random graveyard? How the hell could you possibly know that it's his? You recognize Sam's laptop, but you can't remember when his birthday is?"

"June," John snapped, looking up for a moment to glare at Dean warningly. "I think I'd know—"

"It's May," Dean cut John off before he could finish. Cas was concerned by how pale Dean suddenly looked, and by the way Dean's hands had clenched into tight fists at his sides. Dean stared at John with wide eyes and his lips pressed together in a thin line, his face drained of color. "Sammy's birthday is in May."

John froze, his mouth half open as if he wanted to protest. He cleared his throat and shook his head, brushing Dean off without much thought and turning to Bobby. "So if this vision thing is happening, what the hell does it mean?"

"I have a tracker in Sam's laptop," Dean muttered, turning on his heel and starting out of the room. "It's better than nothing, and we don't have another goddamned thing to go on beside these sudden visions."

Dean brushed by Cas, muttering about how "goddamned fucking suspicious this was" and that if this was a trap how he was going to "fucking lock Sammy in the basement and never let him out once they got him back because he was sick of this bullshit".

Cas took a deep breath and bowed his head, hoping that whatever entity that was leading them was on their side, but the cold feeling of dread that twisted his stomach indicated otherwise.

* * *

Sam grunted in pain and collapsed back against his bonds the second Lucifer released the painful grip he had on Sam's hair. He leaned back in the chair, struggling to catch his breath and almost blinded by the pain pounding in his skull. His hair fell in his eyes in sweaty tangles, and his fingernails dug into the wood of the chair, scraping at the paint as he gripped the chair so hard his knuckles turned white.

Lucifer watched him catch his breath with a satisfied smile on his face. All in all, it had gone well. Sending John Winchester a taste of what Sammy went through receiving his visions wasn't hard when he had a concrete connection to John to work off of; namely, his youngest son.

Sam choked on his words as he struggled to curse. "You sonofabitch. They won't fall for that."

"I think my brother has proven that when it comes to you, he does nothing but fall," Lucifer's lips quirked into a pleased sneer. Sam tensed and kept his head bowed, tightening his grip on the chair.

"It's funny," Lucifer's lips unfurled into a lazy grin. He gripped Sam's chin again to tilt Sam's face up to get a good look at him. "He fell for the boy with the demon blood and his dead beat brother. Not exactly grand, or even commendable, is it?"

Sam refused to reply. He wouldn't let himself give in to Lucifer's taunts.

Lucifer sighed and let go of Sam's chin, disappointed in the lack of reaction he was receiving. "Fine. I suppose we should move on."

Sam found his hands suddenly freed, the ropes falling uselessly to the floor. Before he could stand and even attempt to escape, he was slammed into the concrete wall by some invisible force. He groaned and curled in on himself instinctively, clutching at his ribs.

"I really don't want to do this, Sammy," Lucifer knelt down in front of Sam's crumpled body and touched his cheek lightly. "I would never hurt you, if it was all up to me. But I need your family worried about you, and I can't exactly do that without some bloodshed. Just bear with me, alright?"

Sam didn't have a chance to respond before a solid fist hit his mouth, hard.

* * *

"Cas."

Cas flinched when Dean spoke into his ear loudly. His eyes flickered open and he instinctively clutched the jacket in his arms tighter to his chest. His dazed blue eyes moved up to meet Dean's and he blinked blearily. "Yes?"

"We're stopping for a minute to get something to eat," Dean replied, lowering his voice when he saw the line between Cas's eyebrows deepen and the smaller man rubbed his temples gently. Seeing Cas get something as human as a headache shook Dean slightly; Cas was going to run himself into the ground if he kept going like this. He wasn't as powerful as he had been as an angel; what little Grace he had wasn't enough to sustain him the way it used to. He needed to eat (which he hadn't done sense Sam and Dad's fight) and he needed to sleep. He'd only gotten a couple hours in the back of the Impala since Sam disappeared; Dean felt bad waking him up, but he needed to eat, too.

"I do not require sustenance," Cas said automatically, gazing out the window at the ramshackle bar they'd parked in front of. He clutched Sam's worn jacket to his chest, curling his fingers into the familiar, musky smelling fabric. Music blared from the windows and drifted across the parking lot, and the lot was almost full. Cas didn't feel like he could physically handle being surrounded by humans when he felt like this. He wanted to zap himself directly to Sam, he wanted to rip whatever had taken him limb from limb, and he wanted to have Sam back with his again to help calm the raging emotions in his chest and release the vice grip they had on his heart.

He had never felt so human before.

"Yeah, you do," Dean argued, pushing the back door open on the passenger's side and climbing out. He rounded the car to yank open Cas's door. Cas flopped against the seatbelt, unprepared for the loss of support from the car door. "You're not totally an angel anymore, genius. Humans have to eat."

Cas unbuckled his seatbelt and reluctantly slid out of the car. He wanted nothing more than to keep going until they found Sam again, but how was he supposed to tell Dean that he wasn't up to eating or talking or acting calm and unaffected? Dean had to be feeling a hell of a lot worse, and he looked fine, though Cas could see the tight lines of stress around his mouth. Cas would have to grit his teeth and bare it until they were on the road again. He rolled his shoulders and bit back a wince. His folded wings were wracked with pain; he should have taken up Sam's offer to just drive to the motel the other day. It hurt like hell to unfurl them, and they'd been hurting Cas worse and worse ever since. He'd thought he could handle it; he hadn't tried to even unfold them since Michael had cast him out. He was disgusted by them, afraid of what they looked like, and afraid of not being able to use them.

He followed Dean into the bar, rubbing his shoulder and trying to ignore the growing ache in his chest. If it caused him this much pain to use them once, he couldn't imagine getting full use of them again.

The bar was crowed and the air inside was thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. John and Bobby made their way right to the bar, but Dean took his time, making sure Cas didn't get lost in the crowd behind them. He'd decided that as much as he felt like he needed it, he wasn't drinking that night. Someone had to drive, and he didn't want his Dad behind the wheel if he gave in to his irresponsible side and got smashed.

"Sorry," Cas apologized when he bumped into a man who had suddenly stepped back from the bar and into Cas's path. Cas slipped around him, confused by the way the man was smiling at him.

"Don't apologize," the man grinned lewdly, flickering his eyes over Cas's hunched frame. "It's no problem."

Cas smiled uncertainly and walked a little more quickly to catch up with Dean.

"What was that?" Dean asked, pulling a stool out from under the counter with his foot. He plopped down onto it and rested his elbows on the bar top, glancing over at Cas as he spoke.

Cas shrugged and took a seat next to him. He felt slightly overwhelmed by the sounds and lights and smells assaulting his senses, but he dug his nails into his palm and gritted his teeth, trying to ground himself. "I…I ran into someone."

Dean hummed lowly, glancing over his shoulder suspiciously and looking around the bar, examining the other patrons. His eyes came to stop on a man sitting alone at a table across the room. The man's gaze was fixed on Cas's back as he sipped his drink. Dean's lip curled and he turned back towards the bar.

He'd seen people look at Cas like that before, and Sam always knew just how to take care of it. He'd lean over and whisper something to Cas, his lips practically touching Cas's ear, and rest a hand on Cas's thigh; there was no way to mistake them for anything less than together. Sometimes he would slip an arm around Cas's waist and curl his fingers around Cas's hip, or slide a hand into Cas's back pocket; gestures way too intimate to be brushed off as friendly. That usually put people off.

Cas was always more direct when people flirted with Sam. He would glare at them openly and wrap his arm around Sam, sometimes even tangling his fingers in Sam's long hair and pulling him down for a kiss while the person watched from a distance. Although the idea of Cas staking a claim on his brother was something Dean didn't want to think about, he was slightly reassured to know that Sam was with someone who really loved him.

Dean had no idea how to handle some guy eyeing Cas up. He decided that he'd ignore it for now; it's not like the guy was bothering them. Cas probably hadn't even noticed.

"You getting anything?" John noticed Dean glaring over his shoulder angrily and jabbed his side to get his attention.

Dean shook his head and looked down at his hands resting on the bar top. "No."

"You have to eat," John argued, flipping open the bar menu and scanning the items. He glanced up at the bartender. "Four bacon cheeseburgers, and a round of Guinness."

Dean glanced over at Cas, expecting him to argue, but the smaller man was focused intently on the bar top and didn't seem to hear. Dean looked at Cas a little more closely; he looked like crap. He was clenching and unclenching his shaking fingers into tight fists, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bar stool, hunching his shoulders. He looked like he was about to come apart at the seams, and Dean really didn't want a full on meltdown to happen in the middle of a crowded bar. He cursed himself under his breath; Cas wasn't used to handling his human emotions, and bringing him into a crowded, loud bar was probably over stimulating his senses. He hadn't thought of that.

"Cas, do you want to-?" Dean's question was cut off when a man slid up to the bar between his seat and Cas's, effectively blocking their conversation. Dean glared at the man's back, recognizing the pattern on his shirt; unsurprisingly, it was the man who had been eyeing Cas up from across the room.

"Can I buy you a drink?" the man rested his elbow on the counter, leaning over Cas and crowding him against the bar.

"No thank you," Cas replied absentmindedly without looking up from the dried speck of something he'd been studying since he sat down. The man frowned slightly and shifted a little closer to Cas, so he was pressed to the side of Cas's thigh, and gripped Cas's knee.

"Don't be like that, Blue-Eyes," the man insisted, trying to catch Cas's eye. "Just a drink."

Cas glanced up from the bar top and replied calmly, "I am not interested. I have a partner."

The man shrugged. "He doesn't have to know. He's not here now, is he? It's just a drink. It's not like I'm saying we should…get a room or something."

His hand slid higher up the inside of Cas's thigh. Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into tight fists. Cas was obviously uncomfortable, but unsure of if he should say anything, and this jerk was continuing to feel him up, taking advantage of Cas's uncertainty. "Unless, of course…you want to. You can even bring your boy toy if he's half as gorgeous as you."

Cas slid off the other side of the stool and hauled back to punch the guy across the face. Dean leapt to his feet shocked by Cas's violent reaction. The man obviously hadn't been expecting Cas to hit him, let alone hit him hard enough for his nose to make a loud cracking sound and start bleeding. He pinched his nose with one hand and curled the other into a fist, his face flushing red with anger and humiliation. He took a threating step towards Cas and growled lowly, "You little bitch…"

"Hey, back off," Dean moved to stand in front of Cas protectively holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture. Cas tried to push by him to have another go at the man, but Dean gripped his jacket and yanked him back again. "Cas, stay there. Everyone just calm down."

"He is not my boy toy," Cas snarled, struggling in Dean's grip and clawing at the larger man's sleeve in an effort to break away from him to punch the foul mouthed man again. "And you will not talk about him like that."

The man's lips curled, but he made no effort to retaliate or try to get by Dean. He growled thickly, "Keep your whore under control."

Dean's jaw tightened, but he didn't bother replying. He readjusted his grip around Cas's chest and started to half drag him out of the bar through the sea of silent spectators of the fight. Cas reluctantly stumbled along with him, his footing unsteady as Dean tugged him quickly towards the door.

By the time they got outside, Cas wasn't fighting Dean anymore. He had become almost dead weight in Dean's arms, and Dean hefted him up against the side of the Impala. Cas gripped the roof and leaned on it heavily to hold himself up. His hands were shaking and his heart was pounding. His breath came in short, uneven gasps, and he put a hand on his chest, surprised to find his heart beating more quickly than normal. He saw red when the man's words echoed in his mind.

"Cas, hey, man, calm down," Dean was afraid to touch Cas when he was so unstable. He could almost feel the energy crackling off Cas. "He was a jerk. It's alright, man."

Cas shook his head and sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to return his breathing to normal. "He…Dean, Sam is not…Sam is…I…"

"I know," Dean cut Cas off before he could finish, afraid to hear Cas really say it. He knew Cas loved Sam, and he knew Sam loved Cas, but hearing it out loud when Cas was so confused and desperate would be too much, too real. They had to get Sam back.

"Dean?"

"Fuck," Dean breathed, ducking his head for a moment before turning around to face his dad and Bobby as they strode towards the Impala across the parking lot.

"What the hell was that?" John demanded, coming to stop a few feet from Dean and glaring at his oldest son. Dean had positioned himself almost protectively in front of the angel, who looked like that car was the only thing holding him up. "What's up with him?"

"He's just…he's fine," Dean snapped, knowing that Cas was the furthest thing from fine right now, but not wanting to deal with his dad. "I think he just needs some sleep."

"I am not tired," Cas piped up softly, swaying where he stood and tightening his grip on the car to haul himself back up again. He was exhausted, actually, but he couldn't sleep knowing that Sam wasn't there, that he wasn't safe.

Dean let it go for now, seeing he wasn't getting anywhere with convincing Cas to take care of himself. "Let's just keep going. The sooner we find Sam, the better."

* * *

**Sorry if it seems kind of rushed. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it's taken on a mind of its own. I'm thinking one or two more chapters. I hope you liked it. **

**Drop me a review if you have a second, I appreciate it.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**So here's chapter three! One more chapter after this! I don't know how I feel about this one. Writing action-y type scenes isn't something I consider a strong point, but I tried. **

**Thanks you so much to those who favorited, followed, and reviewed! Your reviews keep me going when I feel uninspired, so thanks:)**

**WARNINGS: violence, torture, language, minor mentions of homophobia, slash.**

**I think that's it. Enjoy!**

* * *

Sam flinched when the door open and hit the wall with a loud bang. His battered body tensed when footsteps approached him, and he braced himself for another 'session' with Lucifer. He'd lost track of time, but he figured that not much had passed. He ached for Dean or Cas to burst through the door and save him, get him away from this pain. The cut on his temple had stopped bleeding, but the throbbing pain in his ribs got worse and worse with every hour he spent curled up on the cold concrete floor.

Fingers suddenly wound through his hair and yanked painfully, forcing Sam to sit up. He bit back a cry of pain and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Lucifer pulled him into a sitting position and adjusted him by his hair so he was leaning back against the wall of the cellar. He released his grip on Sam's hair and smiled pleasantly, stretching the red scab on the side of his face. "There we go. Don't look so anxious. I just wanted to have a chat with you."

Sam eyes him warily, huddling back against the wall.

"The least I could do is keep you updated," Lucifer continued, shrugging a little bit. "Your family and my little brother should be here soon. I left a message to meet us in the cemetery in the edge of town. Should be a nice venue for your brother's final showdown." Lucifer tilted his head and reached out towards Sam.

Sam flinched away from his hand, expecting to be struck. He was shocked when the hand gingerly pushed his hair out of his eyes. Lucifer spoke up softly. "I'm sorry I have to do this to you. If it's any consolation, Castiel is all yours. I have no use for him when he's so weak."

Sam snarled weakly, not able to muster up the energy to verbally argue.

"What was that, Sammy?" Lucifer asked, leaning back on the balls of his feet. "Defending your useless ex-angel?"

"He…he's still got some of his Grace," Sam mumbled, his voice hoarse and broken. He coughed, and blood speckled his lips. "He's not…he's not like you."

"How would you know that?" Lucifer pursed his lips. "_Really_ know that, I mean. He fell from Heaven. Has he ever told you what they did to him?"

Sam looked away, pressing his lips into a thin line. Cas had never said it, but Sam knew that the night he'd shown up sobbing hysterically, his body wracked with pain and unable to control the raging emotions ripping at his chest, had been the night his brothers had banished him from Heaven and torn out a much of his Grace as they could get a hold of. Sam had eventually managed to sooth Cas into a fitful sleep, and when he had woken up again, he refused to mention anything about what had happened to him to get him so worked up.

"No?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "He's probably ashamed for you to know. Michael practically had to beat him into submission. He's become kind of a firecracker lately, something my brothers attribute to you and your brother's influence. Michael doesn't have the authority to take another angel's wings, but he mangled Castiel's so badly he could barely move them."

"Cas wouldn't let Michael touch his wings," Sam breathed, his voice slightly more firm. "That's too…that's too private."

"It's not that hard to force wings out, of you know how," Lucifer shrugged. "Just the right amount of pressure in just the right place…they'll unfold easily. Michael broke them methodically every few inches, tore out chunks of feathers, shredded them… I have never seen my brother so angry, so cold. Not since I fell. Castiel used to have beautiful wings, even after they were charred with hellfire after his little rescue mission. Now they're a wrecked, mangled, useless mess."

Lucifer leaned forward, so his face was close to Sam's, their mouths just inches apart. "Just like he is."

"Shut the hell up," Sam grunted angrily, struggling to sit up straighter, but finding himself being bound to the wall by some invisible force. He could feel Lucifer's hot breath on his face, and he turned away. "They will come to find me, and when they get me out of here, I will kill you."

Lucifer paused and examined Sam. His eyes flickering over the man's bruised, bleeding form. The corners of his lips curled upwards into a smile. "I look forward to it."

* * *

Dean glanced in the rear view mirror as he drove, checking on Cas for the hundredth time since they'd left the bar. Cas had allowed himself to be pushed into the car, and he'd immediately huddled against the door, pressing himself against it as closely as possible so he wasn't anywhere near Bobby, who had slid into the backseat with him. He wasn't asleep; instead, his eyes were wide and blank as he stared out the car window, watching the trees whip by as Dean sped down the dark back road. He had virtually shut down, not noticing anything going on around him, not responding to anyone's attempts to talk to him. Dean didn't know what to do. Sam had always been better at helping Cas work through the confusing mess of human emotions that Cas wasn't familiar with. Cas was probably overwhelmed trying to untangle the mess of anger and fear building in his chest and squeezing his heart.

Dean just hoped he didn't cry.

He couldn't handle it if Cas cried. He'd only seen him cry a few months ago when he showed up at their motel room hurt and freaked, and even then Dean had helped bandaged him up and let Sam take it from there. It scared him that Cas could be so broken. He selfishly wanted Cas to remain unaffected and unattached, able to help them and deal with their problems without them having to deal with any of his.

Cas shifted slightly for the first time since the car had started. Dean saw Bobby immediately glance over at him, and was slightly reassured. For all Bobby's talk, he liked Cas (or, at least, grudgingly accepted him to appease Sam).

"Dean," Cas's voice was clipped. He swallowed with difficulty and his hand drifted to press against his stomach. "I…I feel…"

"Damn it," Dean jerked the wheel to the side and threw the car into park on the side of the deserted road, noting the slight green tone that had edged into Cas's cheeks. He jumped out of the car and yanked the door open, grabbing Cas's arm and pulling him out of the car before he could throw up all over the seats. Cas stumbled a few steps towards the edge of the woods and doubled over, clutching his stomach and retching into the tall grass.

"Hey. Hey, Cas," Dean grabbed Cas's arm to keep him from falling forward. Cas coughed a few times, bringing up nothing but bile. Cas sagged against Dean, his knees going weak. His throat and eyes burned, and his mouth tasted sour. He spit out a mouthful of bile and gagged at the taste, disgusted. He distantly heard Dean's voice, speaking gruffly somewhere above him. "Breathe, Cas. You have to breathe, man, it's not optional when you're human…"

Cas complied, sucking in a deep breath and rubbing his spasming stomach, trying to calm it down. He blinked, wiping at his eyes, and was surprised when his fingers came away wet with clear liquid.

He stared down at his hands for a few moments, stunned. He was sick. He could shed clear, human tears. He had to breathe. He was almost completely, utterly human. He was losing his Grace, piece by piece. He could feel it breaking off little by little and disappearing, leaving him with nothing but an empty space in his chest.

"You alright now?" Dean asked gruffly, hauling Cas to his feet and steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. He tried to catch Cas's eye, but Cas's gaze was fixed on his own hands, which were curled into tight fists. He repeated more firmly, "Cas."

Cas blinked and looked up at him, seeming to hear him for the first time. He cleared his throat. "I…I apologize."

"Yeah, okay," Dean muttered, watching Cas with growing concern. "Are you okay to get back in the car?"

"Yes," Cas replied reluctantly, glancing back towards the Impala. Though he'd gotten used to the car in the past few months, he still found it confining at times.

Dean pursed his lips and nodded, still unsure of whether or not Cas was going to pass out. He opened his mouth to ask if he needed water, but was interrupted by his Dad's loud, irritated voice. "For God's sake, Dean, he's a fucking mess. We can't afford this kind of liability. Get him in the car and let's go."

Cas's gaze flickered to the ground and a red flush of humiliation crept up the back of his neck. Dean could practically hear what Sam would have to say about the way Dad was treating his boyfriend, but found that's Dad's words angered him as well. Cas was his friend, probably his best friend, and he didn't deserved to be talked about like that after all the crap he'd been through to save their asses.

"Liability?" Dean repeated, turning on his heel to glare up at his Dad. John had climbed out of the passenger's seat and now stood looking down imposingly at Dean with his arms crossed over his chest. Dean pressed on nonetheless, too worked up to care about his father's intimidation tactics. "Cas has saved my life, and Sam's life more times than I can count. He pulled both of us out of Hell. He fell from heaven to save your sons, and you have the nerve to call him a fucking liability? He'd do anything for Sam, he's protected him better than you ever have, and I'm not going to let you bitch about him not being good enough! You never even fucking cared about how you made Sam feel, you never thought twice about the way you treated him, like he didn't belong, like he was a freak! He's a better man than you'll ever be!"

"Dean, don't you dare talk to me like that," John threatened lowly, taking a step closer to Dean so he towered over him. "I am still your father, no matter what you think about me."

"You're a bastard," Dean spat angrily, unable to stop himself from letting the words spill from his lips, running on adrenaline and anger and fear. "Cas treats Sam better than you ever did."

"He treats Sam better than I do?" John repeated, amused. "He's using Sam for sex, Dean. Don't be stupid. Sammy's always been a naïve romantic, but I expected better from you."

"That's not true," Cas spoke up, sounding offended that John would suggest something like that. His wide eyes searched John's face for some sign of compassion, of understanding; he only found anger.

"It's not?" John raised his eyebrow and glared at Cas challengingly. "Then why hasn't he seen your wings? Why haven't you let him touch them?"

Cas didn't reply, but went a shade paler. He rolled his shoulders slightly, trying to ignore the pain that ran down his spine and shot into the core of his Grace when he tried to shift his wings into a more comfortable position.

Dean noticed the twitch in Cas's jaw as he tried to suppress a grimace of pain. "It's none of your business if he has or not. Leave him the hell alone. He's worried sick for Sammy, all of us are, and no one needs to deal with your crap. C'mon, Cas." Dean gripped Cas's elbow and steered him towards their side of the car. "Let's go."

Cas slid into the back seat compliantly. He hunched over, elbows resting on his knees and burying his face in his shaking hands. He heard Dean get into the front seat and start the car again.

He didn't know what the tight, painful feeling in his chest was. He didn't understand why his heart felt heavy or why it was getting hard for him to breathe. He didn't know what was happening to him and he was…he was scared. He mangled to pinpoint that much, recognizing the pounding of his heart, his sweaty palms, and the tightness in his throat as fear. He glanced up at the back of Dean's head, but couldn't bring himself to speak up, to ask for help he knew he desperately needed.

Sam always just knew. He could read Castiel's body language and facial expressions and see when the fallen angel was overwhelmed and confused.

Cas desperately hoped the low rumble of the engine was enough to cover the sound of his tears dripping onto his shoes.

* * *

Sam jerked to the side and curled up into a smaller ball, trying to protect his tender ribs from the sudden blow to his side. "Up and at 'em, Sammy!"

"What the hell do you want?" Sam groaned, trying to push himself into a sitting position, but failing miserably. He blinked blearily at Lucifer, his vision swimming. "I can't…I'm…"

"We're going to be late if you don't shut up and do what I say," Lucifer said sharply, wrapping his hands around the chains binding Sam's wrists and pulling Sam to his feet as if he weighed no more than a child. Sam faltered and leaned against the wall, his legs cramping with the sudden effort of standing after being left to lie on the floor since he'd been taken.

Lucifer grinned at him, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. Sam's ribs were littered with dark bruises. A trail of dried blood ran from his nose down the groove in the center on his top lip. An ugly bruise was forming on his cheek, and his eyebrow was split and bleeding sluggishly. He was damaged, but not irrevocably so. Enough to get Dean upset enough to try something stupid.

Lucifer put a hand on Sam's shoulder and dug his fingers into Sam's torn shirt so he had a solid grip on him for transport. "Time to go meet your daddy and big brother."

* * *

"This is where you traced the signal to?" Bobby eyed the small graveyard in the distance cautiously.

"Yeah," Dean didn't stop digging through the truck of the Impala as he replied shortly. "If you're so unsure, then maybe you should ask the psychic." He said the last word scathingly and shot a glare at his father across the trunk of the car.

John's lip twitched and he clipped his knife onto his belt at his hip. "Watch it, Dean."

Dean grunted and continued to search through the trunk for the box of rock salt bullets.

Cas leaned with his back against the car, arms crossed over his chest and surveying the area. He could feel something was off. It was quiet, too quiet. The cemetery was surrounded by woods, there should have been rustling in the leaves, birds chirping, animals moving around through the brush. He didn't see any sign of Sam or of Sam's laptop, and his stomach sunk at the thought of this being a trap, or a false lead.

He glanced up, surprised, when a gun was pressed into his hands. Bobby met his gaze and nodded shortly. He asked gruffly, "You know how to shoot that thing?"

Cas nodded wordlessly, clutching the cold gun tightly in his hands. Sam had been insistent that Cas learn how to use a gun, concerned that Cas wouldn't be able to sufficiently protect himself when his Grace was fading so quickly.

"Alright," Dean closed the trunk of the car and turned to face the others. His mouth was set in a hard, determined line. "Let's check the place out."

* * *

John tramped through the grass behind Dean as they moved deeper and deeper into the graveyard. He could hear Bobby walking behind him, trying his best to tread quietly. There had been no sign of Sam yet. The woods around them was eerily quiet and still, bathed in gray light filtering through the leaves of the trees. John hadn't heard a twig snap or a bush rustle near them since they set off, and the lack of the usual noise in a forest had him on guard.

Castiel suddenly stopped short, digging his heels into the ground and freezing. His hand shot out to grip Dean's arm tightly.

Bobby grunted when he ran into John, who had stopped walking when he saw Castiel stop. He regained his balance and held his gun more tightly, ready to take aim and shoot if necessary. "What-?"

"There," Castiel was peering through the trees to Dean's left, his eyes narrow as he strained to make out the shadows moving through the leaves. "They're over there."

Dean nodded shortly and motioned for John and Bobby to head to the left of the small clearing. He tugged Castiel's sleeve to pull him towards the right. John moved silently towards the clearing and peeked through the heavy foliage, trying to see what was going on. His heart stuttered in his chest when he saw Sam.

Sam's hands were handcuffed over his head, the chain looped through the stone arms of a grave carved to look like a praying angel. He was slumped on the cold, packed dirt at the foot of the grave, unmoving. Blood ran down his temple from above his hairline. His shirt was shredded and torn, exposing the dark bruises painted on Sam's stomach, sides, and chest. He was breathing, John noted with a shaky breath of relief, but his chest rose and fell unevenly when his breath hitched. He'd probably broken a couple of ribs.

There was a man standing next to him, leaning on the crown of the stone angel's head and surveying the clearing disinterestedly. The right side of his face was peppered with red, raw marks, and he reached up to scratch at the angry sores intermittently. John didn't know who this guy was, but he didn't look particularly threatening.

John crept towards the edge of the woods, searching the woods on the opposite wise of the clearing for Dean and Castiel.

"I'm glad you all finally decided to show up," the man's voice startled John, and he immediately raised the Colt, aimed it at the man, and fired.

The bullet pierced through the man's chest, right over his heart. He blinked at John, smiled slightly, and slumped to the ground, lifeless. John stepped into the clearing slowly, wary and baffled by the grin on the dead man's face.

Dean burst out of the woods and ran to Sam's side, completely disregarding any attempt to stay silent. He knelt down and gripped Sam's shoulder tightly, rubbing his thumb over the bruised skin. He shook him roughly, watching Sam's eyes and waiting for his eyelids to flicker open. "Sam. Sammy. Wake up, Sam, c'mon…"

Castiel examined the handcuffs for a few moments before returning his attention to the man lying splayed on the ground. He sucked in a deep breath and ran his bottom lip through his teeth. He should have expected this. He should have seen this coming.

Lucifer. He could see the fallen angel's true form easily.

He could only vaguely recall what Lucifer looked like. He'd been very young when Lucifer had rebelled. He remembered a passionate, vibrant being plagued by doubt and discontentment. He remembered how close Lucifer and Gabriel had been. Gabriel had been heartbroken when Lucifer had been cast out, though he'd tried desperately to hide it from Michael and Raphael.

_Castiel paused for a moment in the halls when he heard a low, desperate sob from one of the doorways. He backtracked a few steps, following the small noises to the source of the sound, and was shocked to see Gabriel sitting on the stone patio in the center of the garden, his face buried in his hands._

_His shoulders were shaking and he didn't look up when Cas came in. Cas hesitantly crossed the room, approaching him cautiously. He reached out and tugged at Gabriel's sleeve gently. "Gabriel…"_

_Gabriel pulled away from him and tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat. "I…Cas, go away. I'm fine."_

"_You…you are crying," Castiel noted the thin trails of silvery moisture on Gabriel's cheeks. He reached out curiously to touch them, never having felt tears before. Gabriel batted his hands away irritably. "Why are you upset?"_

_Gabriel sighed deeply and motioned for Cas to come closer. Cas eyed him warily (he wasn't a child, he didn't need to be coddled), but allowed Gabriel to wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him against his side. Gabriel breathed deeply, pressing his nose into Cas's hair, and tried to compose himself. "I…Lucifer isn't coming back, Castiel."_

_ Cas quirked his head to the side and looked up at Gabriel curiously. "He's just gone for a little while. He always leaves after he fights with Michael."_

_ Gabriel tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Not…not this time, Castiel. He's not ever coming back. We won't see him again."_

"C…c's..?"

Cas was jolted out of the memory by Sam's broken, ragged voice mumbling his name. He turned his attention back to the present and slipped his hand into Lucifer's pockets, searching for the key to the handcuffs. His fingers closed around the metal key and he turned back to Sam to unlock the cuffs.

"Shhh, Sam," Cas muttered softly, reaching up to rub small circles in Sam's hair, cupping the side of his head tenderly. Sam leaned into the gentle touch. Cas could feel Sam's lips moving against his forearm as Sam tried to speak, tried to articulate what he wanted to say. "Sam, it's alright, babe, just relax." Cas unlocked the cuffs and Dean caught Sam before he slumped onto the ground, bracing his little brother with one hand on his chest and another on his back. Sam's hands came to grab at his brother's hand on his chest, desperate to find purchase now that Dean was the only thing holding him up. Cas moved to wrap an arm around Sam's waist and help him stand, but was suddenly thrown back against the gravestone and pinned there, unable to move.

Sam wasn't prepared for the sudden lack of support, and he listed to the side, too dazed to catch himself before he hit the ground, his shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.

"Sam!" Cas yelped, struggling to break away from the stone. He felt invisible bond wrapped around his wrist and keeping him from moving more than inches from the headstone. Lucifer had risen to his feet again, unnoticed by the others while they were concerned with Sam's injuries. The bullet hole in his chest didn't seem to concern him; he seemed more incensed by it than anything.

"This was my favorite jacket of his," Lucifer muttered, glancing down to examine the torn fabric of the jacket with disdain.

Dean stared at Lucifer, shocked. Dad had used the Colt, by all accounts, Lucifer should be dead, gone, sent back to Hell. Not standing up again like the bullet had never hit him. "What the hell?"

"What?" Lucifer glanced up at Dean, mildly confused. His eyes followed Dean's gaze to the bullet hole and a grip spread over his lips. "Oh, that. You think a little bullet can stop me? It'll take a little more than that, Dean."

"What do you want?" John snarled from where he'd been frozen in place towards the edge of the clearing, a dozen or so feet away from Bobby, who was also rooted to the ground. This guy was obviously a much bigger deal than he'd initially thought it the Colt couldn't kill him. John was suddenly worried that they hadn't really been prepared for something like this.

Lucifer turned to face John and smiled warmly, noticing the older man for the first time. "John Winchester. Good to see you again."

"I can't say the same to you," John spat angrily, his eyes flickering to Sam's beaten form curled up in the damp grass. Sam was shifting around slightly, struggling to move. John couldn't tell if he was too weak to move or being held down by the same invisible force cementing his own legs to the ground.

"That's not a way to talk to the one who raised you from Hell and gave you another chance," Lucifer chastised John, amused. Sam gasped and curled up into a tighter ball, feeling the pressure forcing him to the ground suddenly sharpen and pierce through his chest. "Of course, it was all for Sammy, really. He needed someone to save him, and, trust me; it wasn't going to be my baby brother."

"Sam!" Dean yelled gruffly, trying in vain to tear away from the gravestone. "Sammy…"

Cas gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment. He tried to block out what was happening around him and distance himself from the situation. He allowed his mind to take over and reached deep inside himself, to his very core, searching through the dark, empty space where his soul should have been for the dim, pinpoint of light cast by his Grace.

"Don't strain yourself, brother," Cas felt himself being jerked to the side and thrown into the headstone roughly, his side coming into contact with the roughly hewn edges. He winced and hunched over, taking a second to catch his breath. When he looked back up, he found himself face to face with Lucifer.

Lucifer smiled and didn't drop Castiel's bright blue gaze. Castiel had been in his meat suit too long; Lucifer could barely make out his true form anymore. "I haven't seen you in a while."

Cas's lip curled with disgust.

Lucifer shrugged and tilted his head to the side, examining Cas carefully. "You turned out to be much prettier than I thought you would."

"I don't hold the same sentiment towards you," Cas replied sharply. "Release me and my friends at once, Lucifer. We want nothing to do with your plans."

"Don't be so sure," Lucifer raised an eyebrow and shot Cas a disarmingly sincere smile. "I can give you so much more than they ever could, Castiel. I understand you. We both had doubts, and we were both tortured, shamed, exiled by our own brothers. You can't tell me you don't feel a kinship?"

"I feel nothing towards you besides anger," Cas assured him softly, his voice low and dangerous. "I assure you. Now let us go. You cannot force Sam to say yes."

"No," Lucifer agreed. "But I can kill his big brother, can't I? If Michael doesn't have a vessel, we don't have a war. Problem solved." He shrugged and smiled innocently, as if he expected Cas to nod and agree.

Cas paled at Lucifer's words, but his voice remained steady when he spoke through gritted teeth. "Michael will have no trouble raising him again."

"He'll have a hard time finding all the parts when I'm through," Lucifer promised lowly, reaching out to rest his hands on Cas's shoulder. His hands slid back further, until they were almost touching the sensitive skin where his wings unfolded. Cas cowered back against the gravestone, Lucifer's touch suddenly throwing him back into the whirlwind of pain and confusion and humiliation he'd felt at Michael's hands.

_Worthless._

_ Failure._

_ Damned._

_ Wrong. _

_Disgusting, dirty, twisted…_

Lucifer's fingers probed and pressed until he felt Castiel's wings try to unfold against his palms. They got caught halfway out, the bones crooked, twisted, and awkwardly shaped. Cas shuddered, his knees going weak for a moment. His wings creaked and trembled with pain as they were forced out, the misshapen bones catching in his shoulders. He felt Lucifer's fingers curl into a patch of charred feathers and pull. Cas doubled over and bit back a screech of pain. He hunched over the headstone, trying to keep himself from collapsing to his knees with every handful that was torn out.

"Stop," Sam growled through gritted teeth, trying to move towards Lucifer, but unable to push himself up. Cas was dangerously pale, almost white, with the exception of the flaming red of his cheeks. He was breathing hard, trying to choke down screams of pain, tears streaming down his face involuntarily. Sam could hear Lucifer's hands tearing and ripping at something, and he could only assume it was Cas's wings. "Don't you dare touch him. I will kill you. I'll kill you…"

Lucifer's hands were suddenly gone, and Castiel collapsed back against the headstone, grateful for the support it offered. His wings curled around his body, not visible to the others, but still leaving him feeling horribly, terrifyingly vulnerable and exposed. He clung to the headstone, his fingernails digging into the marble until he felt them crack and bleed.

Lucifer shook his head and regarded the trembling being with disdain, clutching the torn feathers in his hands. "Pathetic."

He turned on his heel and strode over to Sam. He reached down and grabbed Sam by his hair, tangling his fingers in the sweaty locks and yanking Sam to his knees. Lucifer stuck the handful of Cas's feathers into Sam's pockets and rubbed his hand on his own jeans, like he was wiping off some kind of disgusting residue. Sam struggled to hold himself upright, disgusted by the feeling of Cas's soft, broken feathers rubbing against his skin and trying to relieve the pain shooting through his skull. "Keep them. It's probably the closest you'll ever get to his wings again." He yanked at Sam's hair, forcing Sam's head back so he was looking at Dean and he could no longer see Cas's hunched form. "Don't want you to miss this, Sammy. Maybe you'll rethink your disgustingly selfish decision to say no to me."

Dean suddenly doubled over and clutched his ribs, a gasp of pain and surprise escaping his lips at the sudden heavy blow to his abdomen. Deep, wide gashes appeared on his chest and sides, curling around to carve through the skin on his back. He stumbled into a headstone and tried to push himself up, but found himself being slammed into it head first. He crumpled to a heap on the ground, moaning and cursing loudly.

"Stop!" Sam clawed at Lucifer's arm desperately, struggling to get away from him or to make him stop, Sam wasn't sure. "Stop, don't hurt him! He's got nothing to do with this, he's not your vessel…"

Sam coughed and spit out a long string of spit and blood into the grass. He struggled to work the words past his burning throat and torn lips, ignoring the pain ruling over his own body. "Please…please, stop hurting them…I'll kill you, you sonofabitch…please…"

Dean unsuccessfully tried to hold back the screams of agony clawing at his throat, but the pain wracking his body was more than he could bear. He felt like a hot poker was being methodically pressed into every inch of his body, like he was being whipped with barbed wire, like he was being torn apart from the inside out. He could distantly hear Sam yelling and begging, but his mind was too overcast by a fog of pain to comprehend what exactly Sam was saying.

And then suddenly everything was a deafening, roaring whirlwind of white and red; when Dean opened his eyes, he found himself sprawled on the floor of a hospital waiting room.

* * *

**So there it is! I hoped you liked it. **

**Leave a review if you have a second! I really appreciate them:)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Final chapter! This is a short, epilogue type thing, so sorry it's not very long. Thank you so much to all of you who followed, favorited, and especially reviewed! I wasn't expecting such a huge response for such a short story. I really appreciate your support and feedback, so thank you so much. **

**OVERALL DISCLAIMER (which I keep forgetting): I do not own Supernatural or any characters within. **

**CHAPTER WARNINGS: mentions of violence and torture, me attempting to write a hospital scene, language, slash**

* * *

John's shoulder connected hard with the scrubbed white tile. He grunted and curled up slightly, wincing in pain. He automatically squeezed his eyes shut against the suddenly bright lights assaulting his eyes.

"Cas? Cas!" John distantly heard Sam's voice hoarsely calling the angel's name. He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up, blinking hard as his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting. He glanced around and was slightly relieved when he saw he was in a hospital waiting room. They were out of danger for now. The other people occupying the space looked slightly miffed at the sudden appearance of the men sprawled on the floor, but not overly concerned. John figured they had their own problems to worry about.

"CAS!"

John grimaced when Sam called out for Castiel again. Sam was curled up in a ball as tightly as his tall frame would allow, as if he was trying to protect himself. As John watched, his struggled to uncurl and rise to his feet, but he could barely kneel without faltering and listing to the side. He froze when he caught sight of Dean, unconscious on the floor next to him. "Dean…"

Sam was down on his knees again in seconds flat, reaching to roll his big brother onto his side. He brushed at Dean's face and shoulders with shaking hands, as if he was afraid Dean would break if he touched him for too long. "Dean, man, wake up. C'mon, Dean, please…"

"Sir, please move out of the way for a second," Sam was suddenly being pulled away from Dean by two sets of strong hands. He fought against them weakly, but found himself being dragged to the other side of the waiting room pathetically easily. He watched helplessly as Dean was lifted onto a gurney and wheeled away by a group of frantic looking nurses. He didn't understand what they were saying, but he could tell by their faces that it wasn't anything good.

Sam glanced around the room. He saw his dad and Bobby sitting up and looking around, dazed, but otherwise unharmed. His stomach dropped when he realized Cas wasn't there. He started struggling against the two nurses holding him back, desperate to get away and search for Cas, to find Cas because Cas had found him, Cas had saved him when no one else had thought he could be saved… "Cas. I have to find him, I have to see him…"

"We'll let you find him in a minute," the nurses exchanged a glance. They started to guide Sam towards the doors to the emergency room. "You should just let the doctor check you over."

"I don't need a doctor!" Sam snapped, yanking his arm out of one of the nurse's grips. "I have to find him, you don't understand—"

"Calm down," the nurse who'd managed to keep a grip on Sam put a hand on his chest and tried to turn him back towards the emergency room doors. "What's your name?"

"What?" Sam gave the guy an odd look and shook his head, trying to get away from him. "I don't have time for this. Let me—"

"Sam, listen to me," John's voice stopped Sam in his tracks. He rose to his feet and moved to stand in front of Sam. He met Sam's gaze steadily and when he spoke, his voice was laced with mildly threatening anger. "Stop. Go with them and get patched up. Dean is hurt, and you need to stop being dramatic. We can worry about Castiel once we make sure Dean is okay."

Sam ducked his head and nodded reluctantly. Shame, guilt, and anger warred in his chest at his father's words. Of course he was worried about Dean; it wasn't fair of Dad to accuse him of not caring. The bottom of Sam's stomach grew cold when he realized that, for a moment, his panic about Cas's safety had eclipsed his panic for his brother's. He swallowed hard, feeling slightly sick, and decided he was too tired to think too hard about that right then.

Instead, he allowed the nurses to lead him through the heavy metal doors into the emergency room, his chest tight and his knees shaking.

* * *

Bobby hunched over in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the small waiting room outside the operating room. He hadn't seen a doctor go in or come out in three hours, and he was starting to get worried. He didn't let it show, for Sam's sake. The kid looked ready to fall apart.

Sam's knee bounced up and down and he tugged at the hem of the clean scrub they'd given him to replace his shredded clothing. His right arm was in a sling, and a few of his fingers were splinted. The small cuts on his face, neck, and arms had been cleaned and covered with bits of sticking plaster, and the deeper gashes had been neatly stitched up. His hair was damp from when a nurse had washed the blood out of it, and it fell into his eyes in wet tangles. Bobby watched his hands open and close into fists; he balled his hands up so tightly Bobby was concerned Sam would split open the scabs on his knuckles.

"Relax, Sam," Bobby finally spoke up gruffly, reaching out to smack Sam's hands when he started to pick at the scabs over his knuckles. "Relax. The doctor will be out the minute they know something."

Sam nodded and but his lip. He ducked his head so his hair hid his eyes. Bobby watched him worry his bottom lip between his fingers. He still looked troubled and shaky. When it hit Bobby, he felt like an idiot for not realizing it before; Sam still hadn't heard from Cas.

Bobby sighed and squeezed Sam's knee in an uncharacteristic gesture of sympathy. "He's tough."

Sam noted the slight softening in Bobby's voice and glanced up at him, surprised. He wasn't sure if Bobby was talking about Dean or Cas. Bobby wasn't looking at him anymore, though; he'd turned his attention to John, who was hunched over on a bench along the opposite wall. Sam's eyes immediately flickered back to the floor. He rubbed his hands up and down the cold skin on his upper arms.

Sam cleared his throat and opened his mouth, resolved to say something to his dad; to ask how he was, to ask for the time, anything. He felt young and weak, and he childishly wanted his dad to tell him it would be okay. He was cut off before he could speak by the door to the OR being pushed open by an exhausted looking doctor.

Dad stood up and approached the doctor anxiously, attempting to keep his expression stoic. Sam could see the tell-tale lines of worry around the corners of his mouth. "How is he?"

The doctor smiled faintly and clutched the clipboard in his hands tighter to his chest. "He'll be fine. There was some internal bleeding. His spleen was seriously damaged, and we had to remove it. He's asleep right now, we're moving him down to room 203. You can visit him as soon as he's situated, but he won't wake up for a few—"

The doctor trailed off, and John glanced around impatiently, searching for what had caught the doctor's attention. Sam had risen to his feet and taken off down the hallway the moment he'd heard the room number.

* * *

Sam clutched Dean's hand tightly and covered his mouth with his other hand, holding back the loud sobs threatening to escape his lips with his shaking fingers. He'd ditched the sling as soon as he could, not wanting to be hindered by the restricting cloth. The monitor next to Dean's bed showed his heart rate, which was comfortingly steady, but Sam couldn't focus on that. He was caught up in how pale Dean was, by the red gashes and stitches marring his skin, by how small and fragile his big brother suddenly looked.

Sam felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye. He reached up to wipe it away.

Cas's thumb gently cupped his cheek and brushed the tear away before Sam could do it himself. Sam gripped Cas's wrist and tugged him close, wrapping his free arm around the smaller man's waist. He kept a firm grip on his brother's hand.

"I'm sorry," Cas murmured softly, pressing his forehead to Sam's chest and curling his fingers into the starched fabric of Sam's shirt. Cas tiled his head so his nose was pressed to Sam's neck and breathed deeply, allowing himself to sag against Sam. He finally felt safe. "I'm so sorry, Sam…"

"For what?" Sam asked, confused. He clutched at the back of Cas's trench coat, holding him tightly. Cas leaned into him more heavily, too weak to hold himself up anymore. "You got us out, didn't you? You saved us."

Cas shrugged and nuzzled closer to Sam. He felt his wings twitch where they were curled up behind him; he had been unable to fold them back up completely.

"Where did you go?" Sam asked softly, carding his fingers through Cas's hair.

When Cas replied, his voice was measured and careful. "I…I needed some time. My…my wings…"

"Oh, Cas," Sam breathed, drawing back slightly to cup Cas's cheek in one hand. "Are they…do you need help? What do you need?"

Cas paused for a moment and took in the man before him. Sam was pale and exhausted; Cas could feel his hands shaking. Sam had a strong grip on Dean's hand, and Cas doubted Sam would be letting go anytime soon. Four of his fingers were splinted, three visible gashes had been stitched, and his skin was dotted with plaster to cover the smaller wounds. Cas knew there were more wounds hidden beneath his clothing. He met Sam's gaze and the vice around his heart tightened; fear, discomfort, and uncertainty swirled in Sam's dark eyes.

Sam was still scared. Sam was still in shock from being kept and tortured by Lucifer.

Cas shifted his wings and curled them around his body so they wrapped completely around him and Sam. He stretched them out and rolled his shoulders, wincing when he heard the cracks that accompanied any movement of his wings lately. Sam stiffened when he felt a sudden warm, heavy presence pressing against his back and shoulders. He felt soft feathers brushing the skin at the back of his neck. He slipped his hand around Cas's waist and moved it to hover inches away from Cas's wings. He could see them now, midnight black and wrapped around him protectively, encompassing him in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

"Cas, you…you don't have to," Sam said softly. "I don't need that to know…"

"I want to," Cas replied firmly. "I trust you, Sam."

Cas watched Sam's fingers hover uncertainly near his wings for a few moments before reaching to grip Sam's wrist gently, taking care not to jostle his splinted finger, and pressed Sam's palm to his wing. Sam ran his fingers over the patch of midnight black feathers, breathless in awe.

"Beautiful," Sam breathed running his fingers through the silky feathers. Cas's wings were huge; they almost completely covered Sam from his head to his feet. Sam could see the twisted bones that had healed incorrectly, the chunks of feathers that had been torn out, the scars that wrapped around them. Cas ducked his head and fought the blush rising in his cheeks.

Cas wrapped his wings a little tighter around Sam. Sam could see the muscles ripple under the taxed skin; Cas shuddered. Sam rubbed one of the joints of Cas's wings gently, hoping it would ease some of the pain. "Cas, babe…"

"I'm fine, Sam," Cas said softly, digging his fingers into Sam's sides. He would need help getting them folded back up, and he needed help untangling the mess of emotions in his chest from the past few days. As soon as Dean was well and Sam was healed. He could wait a little longer. "I…When you have a chance…I think…when you can…I need help."

Sam hugged Cas tightly with one arm around his waist and let out a deep breath. Cas hated asking for help. He could feel the tension ease out of Cas's body under his hands, and guilt twisted his stomach; Cas had probably been holding in a lot, and he didn't know how to handle it. Sam pressed his lisp to Cas's forehead and replied softly, "All you ever have to do is ask."

* * *

John strode down the hallway with a coffee in each hand. Sam had sent him to get coffee, refusing to come to the cafeteria to eat anything. John understood Sam was worried about Dean, but e was being ridiculously overprotective. John had tried to get Sam to talk about what had happened to him while he'd been missing, but Sam had repeatedly shut him down or changed the subject. John turned to enter Dean's room, but stopped short when he saw that Sam wasn't alone anymore.

John could just make out the top half of Sam's head over the dark shield of the angel's wings around him. He could see Sam's fingers tangled in the feathers. Sam's head tilted forward slightly and his long, chocolate locks mingled with Castiel's dark hair. Cas's wings shifted and John caught a glimpse of Sam's lips pressed to the smaller man's. He saw Sam's lips move where they were pressed against Castiel's, and they formed 'I love you' unmistakably. Castiel replied with a soft 'You, too.' The tension that had been in Sam's shoulders since they'd found him seemed to melt away, and Castiel's hands were shaking considerably less than they had been while they searched for Sam. John saw that Sam kept a grip on Dean's hand even as he spoke softly to Castiel.

John shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. For all his talk about Sam's relationship with this guy, he knew what it meant if Castiel was wrapping his wings around Sam. It was one thing for an angel to let their mate touch their wings; it was something else entirely if they wrapped their wings around them. This wasn't something he was meant to see. As much as John didn't like Castiel, the gesture was too intimate, too private to brush off.

He quietly stepped out of the room and set off to find Bobby, unsure of how to handle Sam and Castiel anymore. he found himself still disgusted by the idea of Sam being in a relationship with a man, but how could he begrudge his baby happiness? He needed some time to think about it, but maybe he'd try to rethink this.

Maybe.

Halfway down the hall, he heard Dean's hoarse, groggy voice snap, "Aw, c'mon guys, I'm in the hospital here and you can't keep your hands to yourself for five fucking minutes? What's wrong with you?"

* * *

**So there it is. Kind of fluffy. I hope you all liked it.**

**Let me know what you thought of this part, or the whole thing overall. I appreciate it:)**

**Thanks for reading.**


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